


Updraft

by Medie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Community: fandom_stocking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a weird kind of solace, but it's solace and she takes it every chance she can get -- Laurel gets just a little bit closer to Dinah</p>
            </blockquote>





	Updraft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havocthecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/gifts).



Exhaustion is good. Laurel likes exhaustion. She likes the feeling that comes with pushing too far, burning through everything until she's got nothing left. Just tired limbs and an empty core that carry her through her apartment and into the cool, crisp sheets of her bed. 

She doesn't dream then. There's nothing in her head. No Sarah. No Oliver. No Dad or Starling City. Just emptiness. It's a weird kind of solace, but it's solace and she takes it every chance she can get.

There's a dojo down the street from her place. A hole in the wall, but with good fighters, better teachers, and she goes there when she needs to sleep. Ted lets her train, fight, and push herself. They don't know Laurel Lance, grieving sister and betrayed girlfriend. They just know Dinah with fast fists and faster feet. It's freedom and solace all in one. She spends hours there when Oliver's gone, training and sparring, burning off the frustrated grief and rage. The guys tolerate her at first, then take her under their wing, and then respect her when she starts beating them. 

She even starts being the one they test themselves against. She likes it. 

That doesn't change after his return or when she meets the Hood that first time. 

If anything, she's there _more_. 

Looking back, she thinks that's probably where she found herself again; reborn in the thud of fist against flesh and the honest communication of two bodies in a clean fight. When she's fighting, whether it's in court or in a spar, she knows the lay of the land and how it will twist and turn. She knows the steps, the dance, and how it ends. 

She never needed that confidence more than when Oliver shows up at her door that first night, ice cream in hand, and throws everything into chaos. It's just one thing after another, one crisis after another, and the line between Laurel and Dinah starts to blur. She likes it. It feels right. 

Representing a whistle-blower brings enforcers to her door. They're far from rocket scientists, kicking in the door with enough noise to wake up Laurel and half the building with her. It's the middle of the night and she's exhausted, but instinct takes over and she's moving before she can think about it. One goes through the window, shrieking all the way down, and the other hesitates just out of her reach. 

Laurel smiles. She's relaxed, comfortable, and her mind's never been more clear. If this is how the Hood feels, she can understand the attraction. _Almost_ , she tells herself as stern as she can manage. She _almost_ understands the attraction. 

She looks at the second attacker, hesitant in his black clothes and ski mask, and shrugs. "Didn't your mother ever tell you shouldn't hit a girl?"

He doesn't answer, just looks at her like he's not sure what to do next and it's not long before the wail of sirens intrudes on their standoff. 

"Too bad," she says, tempted to crack her knuckles. "I was looking forward to this." 

"So was I." 

The Hood's standing in the doorway, a grin on his face. 

"Good form." 

She grins back. "Thanks." 

Her father's voice shouts up the stairs, calling her name, and she looks at the Hood. "You should probably go now," she says, waving a hand at the man standing between them. "I've got this."

"So you do," he says, approving.

"Thanks," she manages, a half second the police pound up the stairs and he goes out the fire escape. 

Her landlord comes to fix the door and board up the window until the morning, she spends an hour or so reassuring her dad on the phone, and then she's alone. 

Laurel sweeps up the glass, makes herself a cup of tea, and settles on the couch with a blanket and old movies.

She falls asleep still smiling.


End file.
